


Make it Stop

by reigningqueenofwords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Blood, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords
Summary: Reader is depressed and suicidal,





	Make it Stop

**Author's Note:**

> First posted on reigningqueenofwords.tumblr.com

Staring at your face in the mirror, you hated what you saw. You saw every little flaw, everything that you’d been picked on your your entire life. Anger coursed through you as you clenched your jaw. Pulling your fist back, it flew forward, shattering your bathroom mirror. The fact that your hand was now bleeding, and had glass sticking from it didn’t phase you.

You looked down at the tiny drops of blood that were making small splatters on the floor, numb to the pain that was likely radiating up your hand from your arm. Finally, you lifted your hand to look at the damage. You watched the trail of blood flow smoothly down your skin. 

“Y/N?!” You glanced over your shoulder to see your older brother, Sam, staring at you with worry. “What the hell happened?” He asked as he rushed in, grabbing a hand towel. His hazel eyes met your Y/E/C eyes. “Come on, you can tell me while I clean you up.” He sighed, seeing that something was off. He led you towards the library, as it had the best lighting in the entire bunker.

He sat you down before running off to get the first aid kit. Sam didn’t want to call Cas, because Cas would then alert Dean, who was with the angel. Dean would flip out, because that’s what he did with every strong negative emotion. He doubted that’s what you needed at the moment.

You looked over when he came back, watching him sit diagonally from you. “So, are you going to tell me how your fist met your mirror?” Sam asked gently, peeling the towel from your hand. He winced slightly at the sight of the glass coming out of your skin.

Shrugging, you sighed. “I didn’t like what I saw.” You spoke for the first time since that morning.

Sam paused in his work, looking up at you. You saw the pain in his eyes at the fact that his baby sister could feel like that. He went back to work, gently pulling each piece out. “Why didn’t you come talk to me?” You were much younger than him, but you’d always knew you could confide in him.

“And say what?” You snapped. “Oh, hey, Sam, by the way, I hate myself.” You scoffed. “You’d get all fucking sappy, and you’d call Cas, who would tell Dean. And then I’d be stuck listening to you three blabber about how amazing life is or some bullshit like that.”

His shoulders seem to sag a bit at that. “I might have, I might not have. Either way, was punching a mirror the right way to go? Doesn’t this hurt?”

You shook your head. “Honestly, no.” He stared at you like you were insane. “I feel the blood, but I don’t feel the pain. At least right now.”

Sam said nothing more as he removed the glass and bandaged your hand up. His eyes went to the small bowl of bloody broken glass, his heart breaking. “I’ll come get you when dinner’s done.” He said softly, getting up. Lecturing you would be lecturing Dean. Useless, and a waste of breath.

“Don’t. I’m not hungry.” You lied. Truth was, you didn’t want to eat. Both your brothers had the amazing Winchester genetics. You, however, did not. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Turning, you walked away before he could protest.

* * *

The next morning, you finally made your way out of your room in a pair of baggy sweats and a large shirt. Your hand would need re-bandaging soon, but you’d wait until Sam got on your case about that. Hearing his voice, you slowed down, furrowing your brows.

“Yes, Dean!” He said through clenched teeth. “I’m sure, I’m the one who pulled the glass from her damn hand.” You peeked around the corner to see him run his hand through his hair. “Can’t you just get Cas to snap you back long enough for one meal?” He asked, sighing. “She needs us right now.” His voice was softer. “Whatever, Dean.” He hit the end call button and shook his head.

You knew Dean probably told him that it would pass, that the case was important, or something along those lines. While you didn’t want him to come rushing home, it did hurt. You were less important than some case. Your eyes were downcast as you made your way back to your room.

Kicking your door shut, you didn’t bother to lay down. You just fell face forward on your bed, staring at your wall. On it was pictures of you, the boys, and John. Smiling faces that seemed just a little less real as they went on.

Then…they stopped. Because you stopped taking them. You didn’t want reminders of what felt so fake. How could you be happy when you were surrounded by so much death, and pain? How could you smile when you were surrounded by tears? That’s all that kept going through your mind. And then you felt worse because you wanted that for your brothers. You wanted them happy, and your self-hatred brought them down.

The way you lived your lives, your self-loathing, and the slow decay of humanity wasn’t exactly the best combination for you. Every detail stuck out to you. You stopped watching the news because it was all bad. You stopped going online because you still saw it all. Slowly, you pulled away from the outside world, only pushed harder by memories of what kids would say to you back in high school.

It felt so long ago, but in reality, you’d graduated just two years before. You had no clue how long you’d stayed like that before Sam came knocking on your door. “Come on, you have to eat something.” He told you, putting a tray down on your desk.

“Why do you guys keep me around?” You mumbled slightly. “I don’t help at all. I just put you guys in a bad mood…so why bother?”

“You’re our baby sister, and we love you.” He told you simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, get dressed, I’ll see if Cas can pop us somewhere nice.”

You laughed at that. “Because you think he’ll leave Dean’s side long enough for the Winchester screw up?”

“You are not a screw-up. Why are you doing all this, Y/N?” He asked, watching you move to your back. “You barely eat, your knuckles are going to get infected if we don’t get them cleaned, I don’t even know the last time you left the bunker was.” He was getting so upset his eyes were watering. “You’re scaring us, sis.” He told you.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at him. “Just stop. You wouldn’t get it.”

Sam licked his lips. “I’ll never get it if you don’t talk to me!” The volume of his voice made you jump slightly. “Keeping this shit to yourself never ends well. Look at Dean!” Of course, he’d compare you to him. “Look at what keeping shit in does to our family. Think about how what you’re doing to yourself is killing us, Y/N/N.”

He left you to think about what he’d just said, slamming the door on the way out. He wasn’t saying it to be mean, but sometimes you were stubborn and took a bit of yelling to hear things.

* * *

Sam had given you a couple hours before deciding to check on you again. Finding your door locked, he panicked. “Shit.” He slammed his shoulder against the door, with no luck. Standing back, he kicked near the handle as hard as he could. The door splintered and swung open. There was no sign of you on your bed, making his heart race.

He was silently praying to Cas to get to the bunker, having a gut feeling. Sam had no way of knowing if Cas was listening, or would bother to show up. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so scared.

Just like your bedroom door, your bathroom door was locked. This time, he went straight for the handle. His boot connected with the wood harder than the last time.

All the years of hunting, all the burned bodies, the beheaded vamps, and watching Dean die all those times could not have prepared him for what he saw when he walked into your bathroom. Dropping to his knees next to you, he grabbed anything he could find to press to your wrists.

You looked up at him, barely opening your eyes. You saw the anguish on his face, but all you felt was peace. He shook his head. “CAS!” He called out, tears streaming down his face. “Come on, sis, stay with me.” Sam cupped your cheek, shifting to pull you to his chest. “Why?” He sobbed, putting as much pressure on your wrists as he could.

“You can’t understand how it is to feel this worthless. I just want it all to go away! I want it all to STOP!” You breathed as loud as you could.

Sam could tell that you’d been there a little bit. Had he come in a few minutes earlier, things might have taken a different turn. “Come on, Cas!” He called out again, looking down and seeing your eyes closed. “NO! No, no, no.” He said over and over.

The fluttering of wings could be heard moments later, followed by Cas walking into the bathroom. “Sam?” He asked sadly.

Looking up at the angel, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was livid. “You let her die.” He spat. “I will find a way to kill you for this.”


End file.
